Fast City Slow Hearts

3 | Hi, Matty.

They were staring at each other – unabashedly, unashamedly, intently staring.

My never-at-a-loss-for-words mother appeared nonplussed, opening her mouth to say something before shutting it again.

I couldn't tell if she was more shocked by my bringing him there, ashamed by her grand act of deceit, or simply overwhelmed by the presence of the man she had never quite gotten over.

Mid-clean, she held a dish towel that she was now abandoning.

"Hi, Matty."

My eyes were bugging out; I'd never heard her refer to him by that diminutive before.

The gentle smirk playing on his lips didn't leave as he spoke from across the diner, "It's good to see you."

Wandering eyes watched the moment unfold, and as if suddenly aware, my mom resumed her managerial duties. She looked casual-chic in jeans and an oversized linen button-down over a form-fitting tank top.

From across the room, my mother pinned me with a look I tried to ignore. It was the universal look of a Black mother, usually accompanied by an arched eyebrow and a kind of sneer.

I spoke up, "There's an empty booth over there. I think it's got our name on it."

"Salem. You are in big fat trouble, young lady. Huge, gigantic trouble," Matthew muttered low as he followed my lead to the vacant booth.

Cash and I slid onto one side and Matthew on the other.

I ignored the furtive glances Cash was shooting me too.

The alluring man that had drawn a few of his own stares suddenly looked deeply concerned, "What are you gonna do?"

"Sir?"

Warming at the back of my neck was a mild simmering shame at the miniature mayhem I had caused.

"When she snatches you up in front of all these townsfolk?" He couldn't hold back the snort of laughter that followed.

I rolled my eyes, pursing my lips so I wouldn't laugh.

My mom stalked over to our table with what looked like confidence, "Can I get you anything? Pie? A DNA test, perhaps?"

My eyes widened, "Mama –'

"Don't you mama me, girl. I expected you to concoct some wiley plan, but did you have to bring it to my workplace?"

Matthew attempted mediation, "To be fair –"

She cut him a fierce look, "Don't you try and save her. Salem can take responsibility for her own mess."

Matthew made the zip-lipped gesture.

Abrupt feelings of embarrassment sparked my anger, "And your mess too, apparently."

My lips had formed words before my mind could guard them.

Instead of indignance, my mother's face was the image of hurt.

Her lips trembled, and her eyes glistened with tears as she spoke, "I'll pack y'all up some pie – best in 3 counties. And, I would be very grateful if y'all could take this on to the house. Matthew – good to see you."

She stalked off to some hidden part of the diner, her back ramrod-straight.

What was left in my mom's wake was an abundance of loud silence.

"I apologize. I didn't think this through," I got up from the table, pushing my way outside and into the humid air.

In all of my imaginings, I hadn't considered how this new development would impact my mom. I certainly hadn't factored in my own feelings of tampered-down anger suddenly breaching the surface.